


A Dance and Forever

by Waiting_on_fate



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waiting_on_fate/pseuds/Waiting_on_fate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He talked too much when he was nervous, his mind always wandering to the past even when his future was staring him in the face. As he danced with her, he knew, he wanted forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dance and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by “Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon and “Stay” by The Hurts
> 
> Songs for the dances: “Highland Dance” from Celtic Mystique (slower dance) and “Flaming Red Hair” from Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack

It was too crowded, too many people. Their eyes constantly following him, watching his every move, suspicious. Suddenly the tailored silver-and-blue uniform was too tight. Nathaniel resisted the urge to tug at the high collar of his jacket. It took returning to all the years of training he had as the son of a nobleman to maintain his composure under the dozens of eyes upon him. Instead he squeezed his clasped hands tighter behind his back.

“Relax.” 

A chill raced down his spine at the low whisper and warm breath on his skin. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as Nathaniel looked over his shoulder at his companion. For a moment, words failed him. 

“You look . . . incredible,” he managed finally. 

Crissandra Cousland had eschewed her usual heavy cuirass and pauldrons in favor of a gown for the evening’s festivities. The rich blue silk clung to her torso, held in place at the waist with a silver filigree belt, before falling in cascades to sweep the floor. Instead of the plunging neckline so many Ferelden women favored, her dress extended nearly to her jawline. Silver thread wandered, vine-like, about her throat and down her chest. Yet the dress was not conservative as Nathaniel first supposed. He discovered, much to his delight, that the long, flowing sleeves Crissandra wore left not only her shoulders bare, but attached to nothing in the back. Where the collar of her dress ended, a vast expanse of pale, unblemished skin stretched until just above the soft swell of her rear. 

“I didn’t think such a style was customary in Ferelden,” Nathaniel murmured, his hands twitching as he fought the urge to run them down her exposed back. 

“I am Chancellor, am I not?” she replied, smiling a little. “The position has its perks, and one of them is being able to wear whatever I damned well please to court functions.”

Nathaniel returned her smile, before returning his gaze to the gathered nobles. He caught the disapproving look being leveled at him by an elderly dowager from across the room. Her companions blushed and looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring, but not her. Her thin, withered lips pursed in judgment before she deliberately turned her gaze back to another of her cronies. 

“It is difficult to relax when I know so many of these people wish me dead, or worse. My father did so many people a great deal of harm, and they all believe I will be the same,” he growled, his voice pitched low so only she could hear. “Have they all forgotten the good things the Howes have done for Ferelden? How can one evil man destroy the legacy of all who came before him?” 

Couples twirled about the floor before them. Though Nathaniel knew they weren’t all staring at him, it still felt as if they were. His reception by King Alistair and his new bride had been cordial enough. Somehow he doubted it would have been so had Crissandra not been at his side during the introductions. The sharp look the king gave him when the Chancellor said his name told him as much. 

“I can’t help but feel rather unwelcome, as if any move I make will be enough for someone to cry, ‘Treason!’” 

“They might just be envious,” Crissandra whispered, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Now, shut up and dance with me.”

Nathaniel had no time to react, barely keeping his feet from tangling under him as she grasped his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor. Though his mind was in a fog, his body knew what to do. One hand slide into place on her lower back. Warmth rushed through him at the feel of bare skin beneath his hand. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her gaze. 

A small smirk appeared on her face as she gripped his left hand in hers, her other hand sliding up to rest on his shoulder. Without thinking, Nathaniel began leading her about the floor, his feet remembering the steps he had learned so many years before.   
Dancing lessons were never Nathaniel’s favorite part of training. Nothing he did would please his grandmother, or the dancing instructor she’d hired to teach her eldest grandson the art. His movements were stilted and far too wooden to be considered elegant. He remembered the sharp prods and swift strikes of the instructor’s wooden baton with each wrong move the pupil made. At the end of lessons, after his grandmother berated him as a disgrace to the family name, Nathaniel was only too happy to retreat to the relative safety of the archery range. 

Yet, in this place and moment, with the eyes of Ferelden’s nobles upon him, Nathaniel felt as though he was floating. For the first time, he could feel the music flow through his body, guiding the steps of the dance. His grey eyes found Crissandra’s.   
The look in her eyes, the smile on her face, it made his chest tighten almost painfully. He could hardly bear the moments when the dance dictated they part, circling momentarily with another partner. Hands brushed for the briefest of moments as they passed. Nathaniel felt like a man in a dream as he watched his lover glide across the floor. Crissandra must have known his thoughts for her lips curved in a tiny, knowing smile as she rejoined him for the final steps of the dance.

He could not find the words to speak before the song ended and another, faster, began. Though tonight was a formal event, the diplomatic restraint had given way to Ferelden merriment as wine and beer flowed freely. 

Nathaniel grinned at his partner as he spun her about, his feet moving quickly to keep up with the music. The pair whirled about the room, leaving other couples far behind in pace. Several banns and at least one arlessa were forced to move out of the way. Nathaniel could not help the smirk on his face as even King Alistair took notice of them. 

Blue silk fluttered wildly in the flurry of movement. Crissandra’s sleeves and skirt moved as though they were waves on the ocean as Nathaniel lifted her from the floor. Wisps of soft golden hair caressed his face when he twirled her. He was utterly lost in her as they danced. In that moment, nothing existed but her. 

Crissandra laughed joyously as her lover whisked her about the floor. Her laughter pierced him through the heart. For one brief moment, Nathaniel forgot where he was. His steps in the fast-paced dance faltered as he stared at her. Mercifully the music ended before he could embarrass himself by falling over.

Yet another song began, but Nathaniel was already leading his partner off the floor and out of the hall. Crissandra followed him wordlessly. Out of sight of the court, Nathaniel stopped, releasing her hand. 

Crissandra watched him, her eyes searching his face for an explanation. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times as he fought to find the proper words for this situation. 

“Stay with me,” he blurted suddenly. “I mean—.” The normally stoic ranger ran a shaking hand through his dark locks, cursing quietly as his fingers snagged in the braids Crissandra put in place earlier that evening. 

“Nathaniel? I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Forever, I mean,” he clarified. “Well, as long as “forever” can last for Grey Wardens.”

A nervous, breathy laugh punctuated his words. Though he longed to look at her, to see her reaction, he was too afraid. Everyone left, everyone had someone more important. Before meeting Crissandra, he had never felt more than an afterthought to anyone. His own parents had not loved him and rarely wanted to spend time in his presence. Before Crissandra, he had resigned himself to never feeling as he did now.

Though their romance was in its second year, Nathaniel felt keenly the awareness that Crissandra could leave at any moment. He was afraid. For so long he tried to bury the fear, but now, after feeling her dance in his arms, after feeling himself come alive, he had to tell her how he truly felt.

“I love you, so much that it frightens me,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine ever living life without you beside me. Even if it means going into the Deep Roads before my Calling, I want to be with you.”

“Nathaniel, look at me.” Crissandra’s voice was calm and still. Her sword-calloused hands coaxed her lover’s face up to look at her. Nathaniel barely had time to blink before her mouth was on his, her fingers tangling in the braids at his temples, tugging him toward her. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she repeated fiercely, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “I love you too, forever.”


End file.
